


Three Missed Calls

by DoodleOodleChan



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Best Friends, Canonical Character Death, Denial, HyuRoi, Not Happy, Slight Cursing, Voicemail, missed calls, not really shippy, nypd, really just friends, you can see it as a ship or not, you can see it like that so i'll put it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8456164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoodleOodleChan/pseuds/DoodleOodleChan
Summary: Hughes is over an hour late and Mustang is extremely worried, to say the least. Roy refuses to believe his gut feeling until he checks his phone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm rather worried about this because I can never tell if what I write is good or not. I think I'm a horrible writer, but that's my own opinion. Yeah, so Maes and Roy are detectives for the NYPD. That covers most of it.

Detective Roy Mustang of the New York Police Department was waiting at a bar. This was a fairly normal occurrence, nothing out of the ordinary. Especially if by the end of the night he was flirting with some girl. Like the hot blonde across the room.

He sighed as he looked into his drink. Roy had been working on this same glass for a less than a hour. He had no intention of taking a girl home tonight. His mood had considerably soured. The ice had started to melt half a hour ago, diluting his golden drink. He took the cool class in hand and took another short sip before setting it down. Where the hell was Maes?

They were supposed to meet at this bar about an hour and a half ago. Granted that he had found himself running late too. He had arrived about 15 later than what they planned at eight. He was almost starting to get worried. Almost. It was New York City. He could have gotten called to stay a little later. Work seemed to have been multiplying the past few weeks. Maybe the traffic was worse than he expected. It was more than plausible in this city.

Yet a tight knot in his stomach, that was only growing by the second, was telling him otherwise. While his gut came in helpful in his cases, right now it held this idea something was wrong. He let, more of forced, himself not to notice the queasy feelings of unease. Instead Roy kept his mind on the fact he had no proof. No evidence to back up the ideas of a twisted fate playing like a theater in the back of his head. Maes could walk through that door at any moment. A huge, genuine smile on his face as he sat down beside Roy. He would laugh as he called Roy paranoid and it was work that kept him up.

Except Maes didn't.

As a result, to try and ease his nerves, he took a long drink of the whiskey in front of him. It didn't work, but he told himself that it did. That didn't work any better so he ignored that feeling too. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

He absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair. He took out his cellphone to try to distract himself or something around those lines. Honestly, he had no idea why. He found had three missed calls.

All from Hughes.

That knot in his stomach instantly tighten and a lump materialized in his throat. He must have left his cell on mute from the meeting he was at earlier. He must have forgot to turn it back on.

He opened his voicemail and hit the first message. It came in a little before there were supposed to meet at the bar. 7:46 pm. He put the phone up to his ear as he heard his closest friend's voice ring through clearly.

"Hey Roy," his friend had started. He sounded perfectly fine. Roy was temporarily relived until he realized that this call happened about two hours ago and he still had two calls left. "I'm afraid I have a lead to catch up on. I going to go on ahead and investigate it. I can't tell you what I'm looking into for now, but when I see you I'll tell you if my hunch was right. I'll be at the library for now. I promise to keep you updated. I'll probably be late, so this just a forewarning so you don't piss yourself and worry like my mother or something," Maes laughed. "I better get going. I'll see you soon Roy! Bye!"

That didn't explain what he was investigating, but it gave him a better understanding of why he was late. Now he also knew where his friend went. What could have been his hunch? Why did he insist on it now?

Too many questions, not enough answers. He sighed as he played the next one. Time stamp of 8:46 pm.

"Hey, Roy." Maes' voice was low, like a whisper. He panted and whatever he said sounded muffled. "Something came up. It's bigger than I thought. The entire police, no country, at least, is in danger." He panted, trying to catch his breath between the rush of a sentence. Roy heard faint gun shots over Maes' gasps and words. Roy's heartbeat sped up. Oh god. "Damn it," Hughes cursed. He was silent for a moment. "I gotta go. Bye." He hung up.

What had his friend stumbled into? What happened? His hands held a slight tremor as he moved them down from his ear. He fumbled, and almost dropped his phone, as he pulled up the latest one. That last and final call happened only five minutes ago, 9:53.

Silence flickered over his end. Only the soft, barely audible, sound of raged and forced breathing. It was off. Labored like something, someone, was badly wounded. Then the most heart crippling thing he ever heard.

"Roy"

That was it. Weak. Fragile. Labored. Distant. Maes. It sounded closer to a gasp that anything else. Though it was still Maes' voice. Maybe it was plea. A plea for him to help. A cold chill ran through his body and the room spun. He no longer could hear the raged breathing. That knot in his stomach suddenly churned and felt like it completely consumed him. It raked over his body.

A clack of heels stopped right before the phone. Two voices came across the line. One sweet with an underlying venom. Sounded only mocking to him. Higher in pitch and obviously feminine. He couldn't make out what she said. The other was a male's voice though it wasn't very deep for a guy. He heard them laugh. Then the line went died.

His face was ghostly as he threw down a ten. He rushed out of the bar as fast as he could, almost tripping over himself more than once. Don't let it be true. He refused to believe it until he saw it,but he didn't slow down in the slightest.

He unlocked his car and started to drive off. He called a familiar number. Someone who he could trust.

"Boss? What do you want? I thought you were meeting up with Detective Hughes?" Kain Fuery. A lower ranking officer under him. Great with computers. Especially tracking.

"Are you still at the office right now, Fuery?" He was surprised his voice still worked. It was stiff but didn't break. It worked.

"Yes, of course." Mustang silently thanked some god. He heard some shuffling. "What do you need, sir?"

He took a sharp turn away from slower roads. "Track the latest call from my phone. It's dire Kain." He rarely used first names, but he needed to get across how serious this is.

"Alright." He could hear the computer's keys clacking as Fuery did what he does best. "Detective Hughes phone? Sir has something happened?" He sounded genuinely worried. He should.

"I," his voice wanted break,"I honestly don't know." His voice was quiet.

"Oh." Like that was all it took too understand. He wished it was so simple. "Looks like his phone is off. I can't get a current read."

Mustang hit the console as hard he possibly could. Of course it hurt but to him it only felt numb. Numb. That was it. Had to be. It wasn't. He felt anger fine. He was petrified.

"What I can do is get the last location if you give me a second." Roy sighed relieved, only partially considering the circumstances. "He's at a warehouse. I'm sending the directions to you phone now, sir. Should I call the others?"

"No. not until I know. If I don't call you, or the rest of the department, in half a hour, then you should call it in." He was silent for a moment. Neither spoke. "Thank you Fuery."

"No problem sir. I'm not sure what this is about, but good luck." With that they hung up. He disliked how it sounded. Roy even flinched a little.

Mustang sighed to himself as he sped up. "I'm not sure what this is about either." I swear to god, Maes. You better be alright. His voice started to crack at the end. Hurt. Injured. Yet breathing. Alive.

Finally he arrived at the warehouse. It might has well have been years for the man, yet it was no longer that fifteen minutes. He took out his loaded gun, it was always on his person ready to fire. He took off the safety and pointed it down at the ground, away from his feet. It was dark out and cold enough to see his every breath. He stormed in, ready for everything. Except one thing.

No lights on. Roy the switch near the entrance. His raven eyes picked up on everything around him. The entire place was a mess. Shelves, tall enough to almost reach the top of the structure, lined with smaller boxes and other items, such as tools. Paper covered the floor like a layer of dust on something long forgotten. Bigger boxes and wooden and metal crates littered the entire area. It was basically a maze that he would have to weave through. A nightmare for someone trying to find something, or someone.

No sounds echoed through the entire metal coffin. Either no one was here, there were standing still, or they moved as silent as a snake. Hoping that no one was around," Maes! Maes, where the hell are you!" No reply. He refuses to believe it. There's no way. "Hughes? Goddammit!"

He took a right turn and saw rose red drops of blood. He stopped for a moment to look where the trail was going. His heart fluttered for a moment. Injured. Please let that be it. He couldn't lose him. Maes has saved his life so many time that he couldn't count them all. He owes Hughes. There were some many things they wanted to do. So, so many. 

He lost all composure. "Maes! Maes where are you? Answer me, dammit!" He continued to yell until something peaking out from under one of the long, tall shelves. It was a glimpse of shiny ebony and glistening ruby. "Maes!" His wasn't sure what his voice sounded like in those moments. It was distant as he desperately ran towards the opening only a few yards away.

When he entered he stopped dead in his tracks. "Maes?" His voice tiny, fragile like glass ready to shatter. His stomach dropped and he thought he was going to be sick. He staggered forward. Before him sat his best friend, the best man he knows, the smartest and kindest man he will ever know lying in a pool of scarlet.

He was slumped against the wall, partially hidden by a large crate like he was trying to hide. His head slumped forward, black hair, normally kept back, hanging loosely over his face like a black veil. Red. Red over his chest. Red leaking from his shoulder. Red dripping to form a red sea under Maes.

Getting a small rush of adrenaline, he ran forward. He ran to his friend. As soon as his feet brushed against the blood, he feel to his knees. He ripped off his ever-present gloves and checked the pulse on Maes' wrist. Nothing. It was futile. Roy had tears running down his face as he took his friend's limp head in his hands. Roy felt Maes' lukewarm skin against his own clammy hands. It felt so wrong. All the warmth had been drained. He stared into glossy, dead eyes. Those golden hazel eyes once held such joy and wisdom. Never again. He could never see them sparkle with joy or delight. He could never feel the warmth of the other's skin. He didn't want to forget his voice.

He cried out in sorrow. 

 

__________

 

Detective Roy Mustang stood before polished granite. He was dressed in his navy blue uniform with his cap under his arm. His black hair pushed back.

Not for the first time that week had he cried. Not the last time either.

He squatted down and took off the glove on his right hand. He ran his ugly, burnt hand through the soft dirt. The dirt that separated him from Maes. If only he hadn't muted his phone. He could have stopped this. He could have helped. He could have done something. No, he needed to stop blaming himself. It was the person who dared to murder Maes Hughes who was the cause of this pain.

He stood up and placed the glove back over his hand. He placed the cap on his head over his eyes. Roy's gaze was solemn as he looked at the name. It still seemed surreal and he was there with body. He saw it at the warehouse, at the morgue, at the ceremony and in his dreams every night.

As he looked at the stone he thinks about all the moments they shared. His hands twitched. He thought about all the moments that could have been. His hands clenched into tight fists. He could still hear the last call with Maes desperately calling out his name. He was pleading for Roy. He felt his nails dig into his hands. A fire had been started. Hotter than anything he has ever seen or felt. It wasn't fueled by oxygen but pure hatred. It couldn't be smothered. It showed behind his eyes. He owed Maes. He owed him so much but for now there were only a few things he could do. When he spoke, his words were full of meaning.

"I will get to the top. I will get vengeance on whoever did this to you." He turned away but he had one final promise.

"I will make sure you aren't forgotten Maes. I will always remember."

**Author's Note:**

> Alright. Hopefully that was sad and made you get all of the feels!  
> Yes, Mustang has his hands burnt from when he was younger due to fire that happened years ago. He wears gloves to cover up the burns because they don't look very nice. The rest of that story is really up to you and your interpretation. (I could always do a story on that~ would you like that?) They are/were partners. Like partners in the police force not in a romantical way, but, as i said, it's up to you. Honestly, I do ship it because, for whatever reason, i do like it. I hoped you liked it! I really want to hear your thoughts on it! that would mean the world to me!  
> Till the next time! Bye!


End file.
